


Adventures in Haberdashery

by saltlicorice



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltlicorice/pseuds/saltlicorice
Summary: “Yeah, nope. I was going to do this tomorrow, between practice and game time, but you need to get out of this goalie trance, man, so we’re doing it tonight.” Nate holds out both hands. Braden still has no idea what’s going on and he’s still certain that Nate should be going to bed, but lets himself be pulled to his feet from where he’s sitting at the foot of the bed. He must be more tired than he feels because he stumbles and has to catch himself with a palm against Nate’s chest.





	Adventures in Haberdashery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anonissue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonissue/gifts).



> anonissue – I really hope you enjoy this fic! I had a lot of fun writing Schmidty/Holts, so thank you for the lovely prompt.
> 
> [Effy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fourthlinewinger) – A million thanks for beta reading and cheer leading! This fic would not exist without you.

_Red. Blue. Gray. Black. Blue. Gray._ Braden has no idea what the painting in this hotel room is – hell, it probably isn’t supposed to be anything. Even five-star hotels must buy the kind of mass produced abstract art that doesn’t require a vision, the kind of art that’s probably easier to make if you don’t have a vision. Or a soul. Not having a soul might be nice. People without souls probably don’t care if they let in three easy goals. Or if their team has been struggling all week. Or if their best friends are acting weird. 

_Blue. Red. Black. Gray. Black. Red._ The painting may be soulless, but its giant blobs of color are good for vision training. Braden needs to work on a lot of things after this past week, but his vision’s about the only one he can do anything about at the moment.

“Alright. That’s enough. We’re going out.” Nate sighs, stepping between Braden and the painting. 

Braden blinks at the interruption and swallows down the instinct to snap. “I told you – go to bed.” Nate started nodding off fifteen minutes ago when they were trying to watch _Top Gun_. Braden clicked the movie off and told Nate to go back to his own room and get some sleep. Their next game may not have been until tomorrow evening, but waking up tired on game day never served anyone well. And he didn’t like seeing Nate anything less than chipper and sunshiney. 

“Yeah, nope. I was going to do this tomorrow, between practice and game time, but you need to get out of this goalie trance, man, so we’re doing it tonight.” Nate holds out both hands. Braden still has no idea what’s going on and he’s still certain that Nate should be going to bed, but lets himself be pulled to his feet from where he’s sitting at the foot of the bed. He must be more tired than he feels because he stumbles and has to catch himself with a palm against Nate’s chest. 

“You okay?” Nate asks, a steadying hand on Braden’s waist. Braden nods, stepping back.

Nate doesn’t let go of his other hand, instead using it to pull him through the hotel room door, down the hallway, and to the bank of elevators, before punching the button for the ground floor.

The only things down there are the front desk and the hotel restaurant. “We can’t drink the night before a game,” Braden says. He doesn’t bother mentioning the curfew they’re about to break. He also doesn’t mention how very much he isn’t in the mood to drink and he definitely doesn’t mention the pang of disappointment he feels that Nate doesn’t know that without being told.

“We’re not drinking.” Nate lets go of his hand as the elevator arrives and they both step in. “I’m not in the mood either,” he adds, knocking his shoulder against Braden’s.

“Oh, okay, good…” Braden trails off, simultaneously feeling relieved that Nate can still read him, rueful for doubting him, and very, very confused. “Or, it’s not good that you don’t feel like drinking, but, you know –”

Nate cuts him off brightly as the elevator stops. “Hush! We’re going out.” He strides quickly towards the lobby doors leaving Braden to follow.

Braden refuses to jog to catch up, but Nate waits for him at the door, chatting with the doorman. “We’ll be back soon. We have a game tomorrow,” Nate is telling him.

“Well, have a good time.” The doorman holds the door open for them. 

Braden spares a moment to wonder if the doorman is as confused as he is before Nate opens the backdoor of a black car waiting by the curb and climbs in, gesturing for Braden to follow him. 

Braden squints at the car until he notices the Uber sticker on the front windshield. Huh. Nate must have requested it while Braden was absorbed in his hotel artwork vision exercises. It’s a little disconcerting, but at least an Uber suggests standard shenanigans, not government level intrigue.

By the time Braden climbs in, Nate has already confirmed the address to the driver, so he can’t surreptitiously figure out where they’re going. He tips his head against the window. “Is it worth asking where we’re going?”

“Not yet,” Nate replies and they slip into a comfortable silence. Braden watches the streetlights go by on the nearly deserted Winnipeg streets. It’s unexpectedly relaxing. _One light, two lights, three lights, four. Stop sign._

Braden blinks to attention when the car stops in front of a giant, brightly lit building. “Walmart?” He frowns at Nate.

“Um, yeah.” Nate sounds uncharacteristically sheepish and Braden feels reflexively guilty.

“I’m sure you have a good reason for this,” Braden says as they clamber out of the car and Nate thanks the driver. Apparently he isn’t going to get any more of an explanation. That’s alright.

They step quickly into the warm store from the chill of the Winnipeg night in late October, as the automatic doors slide open around them. There’s a podium just inside the doors, a cheap particle board thing that reminds Braden of middle school, and there’s a roll of those bright yellow smiley face stickers sitting on top of it. He wants to peel one off and stick it on Nate. It would match Nate’s typical smile, maybe even coax it back.

“We weren’t supposed to be doing this at Walmart.” Nate still sounds self-conscious. 

Braden looks away from the stickers and grabs Nate’s arm, wanting to chase the uncertainty out of his voice. “What _are_ we doing, anyways?” 

“Hat shopping.” Nate doesn’t elaborate.

“Hat shopping? Do you need a new hat?” Braden lets go of Nate’s arm and starts walking further into the store. In his experience, it’s never a good idea to stand still for too long in a Walmart, especially this late, although his experience is more than a few years outdated. 

Nate follows him. “Um, no, we’re not shopping for me.” Nate sounds uncharacteristically hesitant, although now that Braden’s thinking about it, Nate has been sounding like that more and more lately.

The realization smacks into Braden like one of those rare pucks that hit him blindside, and he stops walking in favor of turning back to Nate. “We’re shopping for hats for me?” he asks slowly, mostly for want of anything better to say.

Nate keeps walking. “Look, I know this isn’t the ideal place for it, but after the last week, I just thought you could use something nice.” He throws an arm over Braden’s shoulder and continues walking, still talking too fast to be comfortable. “I had a place picked out – this cute little boutique with these handmade hats – you know, the kind of place you would actually think to go shopping, but man, you needed to stop staring at that painting tonight.” 

“Oh. No, that’s good, I think.” Braden’s pretty sure he’s babbling, but he doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to say. The whole team’s been having a bad week, but Braden has been having an even worse one. Being a goalie’s terribly lonely like that – you can have a great game when the team’s terrible, but you can also have a horrendous game when the team’s just baseline, garden variety bad. And then your best friend can be weirdly stilted on top of everything else, but Braden supposes _that_ happens to people who aren’t goalies, too.

But, Nate noticed how bad Braden’s week was, no matter how bad his own was, and no matter what had been going on between them lately. And he decided to take Braden hat shopping, which was really the most thoughtful thing ever. And then, of course, he decided to take Braden hat shopping at _Walmart_ , which could possibly be the most Nate thing ever.

Braden realizes he’s been lost in his head for a long minute when Nate gently squeezes his shoulder. “This is good. It’s like an adventure.” He smiles at Nate.

Nate beams back, the grin breaking across his face like sunshine. “Well, I know you like adventures, man. Pretty sure you’re the most adventurous goalie in the league.”

Braden laughs and looks around. He’s been walking without paying attention to where they’re going. He finds himself surrounded by a full rainbow Halloween costumes in misshapen spandex and sparkly tulle. He already has his own costume for Ovi’s annual party set aside at home, nothing nearly as garish or plastic as what’s hanging on the racks here.

Nate stands still, then turns slowly in place, still grinning as he takes in the ridiculous selection of costumes. He pulls down a cowboy hat, before grabbing the matching giant belt and holding both out to Braden.

Braden does his best to channel his game face. “Try again. I’m not Carey Price.”

Nate stares at him for a moment, then doubles over laughing. Braden holds onto his game face for another few seconds, before cracking up himself. 

Braden takes the hat and belt from Nate and puts them back on the shelves when they finally stop laughing. “Come on. Wasn’t the goal to find something I’d actually wear?”

“Yeah. Yeah, alright man. Let’s figure out where they keep the non-Halloween hats.” Nate rests a hand on Braden’s back as they head to the end of the aisle. The weight of it is comforting, grounding.

Nate sets a brisk pace, brisk enough that Braden barely has time to mourn the existence of diet plans as they walk past three rows of candy, or to think that Nate may be sweeter than all of the candy combined. He certainly doesn’t have time to consider why he’s thinking about how sweet Nate is. It’s not like he’s never thought that before. It just feels a little heavier now.

Braden has to give the Winnipeg Walmart points for not being terribly laid out because the hats aren’t all that hard to find. Of course, they’re next to the winterwear, or perhaps more accurately, intermingled with the winterwear. Nate steps away from him and they both look around. There are a few ballcaps, a ton of beanies, and some truly impressive knit monstrosities. There’s not a fedora in sight.

Braden expects Nate to laugh, but Nate doesn’t. He looks uncertain again. Uncertain and a bit worried, almost as though he’s expecting Braden to blame him for the subpar selection. “Well, man, this isn’t what I had in mind, exactly,” he says quietly.

And that’s not a tone Braden ever wants to associate with Nate, especially not when he’s beginning to think he’s the one who made Nate sound so small. He pulls a lime green hat with ear flaps and a pompom off a rack. “I think you could pull this one off pretty well.” 

“Yeah?” Nate nearly bounds over to Braden and his smile reappears. Braden only winces a little at how quickly Nate yanks the hat onto his head. “How do I look?”

 _Ridiculous_ should be the first word that comes to mind, because Nate is a grown man wearing what could easily be part of a rather poorly conceived dinosaur costume, but that’s not what Braden blurts out. “Good,” he says instead. 

Nate’s eyes go wide and his cheeks flush pink. It clashes with the hat, but Braden finds himself thinking _cute_ and he feels his own face heat. He takes a breath and steps back – when did he get so close to Nate?

Nate, who is his best friend, and who is sweeter than candy and brighter than sunshine. Nate, who took him on an adventure at 11pm in Winnipeg because he was stressed. Nate, who looks good, even in the worst of Walmart’s hats. The pieces slide smoothly into place. Braden likes Nate. Liking Nate feels as natural as settling into his crease.

Braden commits. It’s like charging out of his crease to challenge an opposing forward on a breakaway. Sure, there’s the air of danger, the possibly that everything could go horribly wrong, but it’s thrilling too and being decisive usually pays off in spades.

“You look really good. The hat doesn’t, but you do,” Braden says, quietly. He can do this. He can put his cards on the table and give Nate a chance to do what he wants with them. Maybe Nate hasn’t ever considered dating Braden, but maybe he would. Braden only thought of dating Nate about three seconds ago and he’s pretty sold on the idea.

“I do?” Nate flushes deeper and wipes a hand across his cheek, as though he’s trying to wipe away his blush. “You think I look good?”

A few more pieces slide into place. Nate turning tentative a month ago, suddenly concerned with getting everything _right_ with Braden. Nate coming up with an elaborate plan to make him happy instead of relying on his usual jokes and smiles. Nate leaning in close to pull that ridiculous hat on. Braden’s pretty sure he was slow to catch the move this time. “I’m not reading this wrong, am I?” he asks softly, stepping closer to Nate.

“You’re really, really not.” Nate closes the distance between them.

It turns out the tassels hanging from the hat’s earflaps are pretty useful for holding Nate close while he kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://love-your-goalie.tumblr.com) and scream about women's hockey with me!


End file.
